Musa Publishing is excited to announce
The Legend of Sarah Latham, a paranormal romance
FREE READ by
Marci Boudreaux, is now available.
Family reunions can be hell.
Nearly four hundred years ago, Sarah Latham and William Fuller disappeared. Legend has it she was a wicked witch and he was her demon. Legend also has it that whenever a Latham descendant reaches thirty years of age, Sarah comes to drag them to Hell.
Good thing twenty-nine-year-old Elizabeth Latham doesn't believe in legends. Or at least she didn't until she happened upon a woman in the family cemetery who just happened to look an awful lot like the paintings in the local museum.
Elizabeth is determined to stay ground in reality, but her idea of reality is shattered when she finally accepts that Sarah and William have returned. She soon realizes that Sarah is about as far from wicked as William is from being a demon.
So if Sarah hasn't been dragging generations of Lathams to hell...who has?
EXCERPT
“This is it,” Elizabeth said. “The Latham Museum.”
“I know,” Sarah whispered.
“What?”
Sarah forced a smile as she looked at the woman next to her. “It, uh, isn’t much, is it?”
“Well, according to the museum, the cabin is exactly the same. Every board has been replaced at some point, and electricity and running water were added in the fifties, but overall, the structure is exactly as it was then. So they say.”
Sarah took a moment to look up at the log cabin again while Elizabeth hopped out of the truck. Thoughts of her life here ran through her mind like a movie as she finally opened the door and put her feet on the ground. Moving toward the house was like being transported through time. Each step made the past feel closer until she could smell the fields and hear axes chopping in the distance as the boys cut wood for their fireplace.
Sarah was pulled back to the present when Elizabeth pushed a door open and caused a bell to jingle. Sarah took a breath as she stepped inside, bracing herself for whatever remnants of the past remained.
Actually, the cabin wasn’t a terrible replica of the home she had shared with the Latham men. Her gaze immediately lifted to the loft where the boys had slept. The fireplace to her left had a huge kettle hanging from a hook and a wooden table had chairs surrounding it, closely resembling the setting that had been there before.
In the window, which now had glass panes, was a Voodoo doll with Xs stitched for eyes and pins sticking out of it. She’d never done that; such a brazen act would have brought suspicion of witchery from her neighbors, but she guessed that was what the museum was going for—the blatant signs of witchcraft that legends were made of.
A stuffed black cat sat on a chair, forever stuck with its paw in the air and hissing violently. The Lathams had never owned a cat. Sarah loathed cats then and now. Black felines were just another stereotype blown completely out of proportion.
One wicked witch, one black cat, one coven who summoned demons from hell, and now all witches were supposed to have black cats, pointy hats, and Satan on speed dial. She shook her head, offended that this was part of her legend.
But then, something else drew her attention and pulled her into the so-called museum. A stand in the middle of the room with a glass case over it summoned her.
“Jasper,” she breathed. She bypassed all the other trinkets and displays, and went straight for the display. His journal. The journal she’d given him and protected with a spell so long ago was there and was nearly as perfect as it had been then.
The book lay opened to a page with a drawing. She’d always been amazed by his artistic ability. He could put charcoal to paper and make the most lifelike images appear with just a few strokes and smudges.
Her smile fell when she stood over the picture exposed to museum visitors. A drawing of her. A perfect drawing in fact. Four hundred years later and she looked exactly as she had in the drawing he’d made. Her dark hair was pulled up and tucked under a bonnet, her clothes were from the old days, but her light eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips were the same.
“Whoa,” Elizabeth said, standing next to Sarah. She looked from the drawn Sarah to the live one. “Remember how I said you kind of looked like Sarah Latham? I take that back. You are a dead ringer for Sarah Latham.”
“So it seems.”
“Creepy,” Elizabeth whispered.
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Marci Boudreaux, her husband, two daughters, and their numerous pets live in Iowa. She is a freelance writer and appears monthly in a variety of local magazines as well as a content editor for several small publishing houses.
Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new. And since her husband doesn't like when she does that in real life, the best solution is to write it.
Marci has her MS in Publishing and works as a freelance editor for Kensington Publishing Corporation in their Lyrical Press imprint. Marci also does freelance editing including developmental, content, and grammar for authors preparing to start the submission process.
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